Hey now
by Waiting.For.A.Chance
Summary: Inspired by the song "Hey now" by Augustana. "We'll kill ourselves to find freedom, you'll kill yourself to find anything at all.." Bella and Edward meet and change each other's lives. All Human, OOC.
1. Chapter 1

She should be crying right now. She knew that any normal person would be, in a situation like this. But, she never had been normal . This self-proclaimed statement only emphasized by her absence of tears.

The alleyway was cold. The stench punctured her senses - that horrendous damp smell that evolved from stagnant water, accompanied with the unmistakable odour of stale piss. It wasn't pleasant, by all means. In fact, it was barely tolerable. Yet Bella found comfort here; the dark, dodgy alley held no promises, kept up no facáde - it simply was. What you see is what you get.  
Once upon a time, she would have scoffed at that statement. How shallow! she would have cried, and quickly launched into a cleverly thought out argument to counteract the phrase. But once upon a times are distant, too far out of reach - _a_ _thing of fairytales._

Now? Well now, Bella was proof of that very statement.  
What anyone would have seen - if they dared to venture into the narrow space filled with neglect and despair - would have been exactly what Bella was.

A young, dark haired girl leaned against the brick. Her pale skin was illuminated by the faint overhead glow of the moon, and accentuated even more-so by her very little clothing. She wasn't very tall - or very short either, for that matter - but her high heeled boots gave her a boost that made her appear taller. She liked that - the extra height gave her confidence; made her feel taller not only physically, but also mentally - even if only for a short while. The black leather of her boots noticeably contrasted with the colour of her skin - her shapely legs as white and smooth as a fresh piece of paper, just waiting to be marked. Her short skirt covered the tops of her thighs, and the bottom hem of the low cut top brushed against her navel, showing the shockingly white sliver of skin between the two sets of clothing.

Bella wasn't proud of her appearance right now. Her body, her figure - well, she supposed she was what some might call attractive. She was a decent size - perhaps a bit on the slightly underweight end of the spectrum, due to her current circumstances - but overall decent. She had ample sized curves, breasts that would fit a mans palm quite snugly, legs that would look perfect wrapped around someone's waist. She supposed, once upon a time, she could have been quite the nice girlfriend - she had the looks, the personality, the promise. But there go the words again - _once upon a time._ So ironic and cruel that the words included in many fairytales caused so much misery in Bella's life.

Now however, the personality, the promise... had both slowly deteriorated over years of hard work and failure. She'd thought herself strong-willed, determined to succeed, able to overcome any obstacles along the way. However, no matter how strong you think you are, no matter how many times you pick yourself back up and dust yourself off after a rejection, slowly but surely, your armour gets chipped away at. Until eventually, your protective shell is nothing but dust on the floor, and you're left standing naked, vunerable and broken. Bella was the proof of this. She remembered she was proud of herself, in some distant part of her mind - for trying, and persevering, even when she felt she had nothing left. However, the danger of a situation like hers was, one day you wake up and realise that you _don't_ have anything left. Her future, her dreams, her soul had been slowly falling away from her, until it was too late for self preservation.

All she had left was her body. She was an empty shell - absent of any emotions. She wasn't proud of her situation right now, but she could feel no shame, only indifference. Her conscience was telling her, whispering, that this was wrong, this was a bad place to be. But her desperation to survive pushed that insignifigant whisper away. This is what this was. Survival. She had to make money some how, keep feeding herself, keep a roof over her head. Shopkeepers and flat tennants didn't care where the money came from - as long as they received it, they were happy. Her customers didn't care about her body - as long as they receieved it, they were happy.

_She should be crying right now._

But she couldn't. She had to survive, whatever the circumstances. So she pushed herself up from her slump against the cold alley wall, hitched her skirt just a little bit higher, stood with her shoulders back, and put on her best 'come-hither' look as she made her way towards the back entrance of the club, to advertise her services.  
_What you see is what you get,_ she reminded herself. She had to prove her worth to these men, prove that they'd be spending wisely if they chose to take her home for the night.

And as she waited, she laughed at what had become of her.

Bella Swan - the girl with so much promise, so much future.

Bella Swan - the prostitute.


	2. Chapter 2

Her eyes closed, she threw her head back, hummed low in her throat, and pretended she was enjoying it. The man above her grunted his approval as she arched upwards, towards his now frantically thrusting body. He was close, his movements becoming more erratic as he teetered on the brink of release.

She opened her eyes to watch his expression as his hips pushed him into her body for the final time. His brow was furrowed, his eyes scrunched together, the cords in his neck straining as his head stretched subconsciously forward during his orgasm. Luckily, he was so caught up in his own pleasure that Bella could fake it with minimal effort. She clutched her legs tighter around his waist, and dug her fingernails into the soft skin at his shoulders, as if she was holding on for dear life. He moaned, long and loud - a mixture of pain and pleasure racking his body, and she smirked in satisfaction that he was so easy to effect.

He pulled out, rolled over onto his side and attempted to catch his ragged breathing. Once this task was accomplished, he turned to acknowledge Bella, almost like he had only just became aware of her presence. This should have bugged her if she were any other girl, but she wasn't, and it didn't. She wasn't expecting laughs and hugs and whispered words of sweet nothings during, or after sex. That wasn't part of her job specification. No, she was expecting to be blanked out by the man at her side - she was here to provide him pleasure, a release, with the use of her body, and nothing else. He didn't care for her - only what she could give him. She could be faceless for all he knew, because when they got down to business he was so occupied with pleasing himself that he hardly glanced in her direction.

Bella mentally shrugged at the fact she had been blatantly ignored, and turned to look up at him when she felt the bed shift as he propped himself up on his elbow, head resting in flat palm. His eyes searched her face, drinking in her features, and she realized he was looking at her for the first time. She didn't like it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she found it ironic that she was perfectly fine with baring her naked body infront of a stranger, and engaging in intimate physical acts with him, yet felt horribly vulnerable when he simply stared into her eyes. She cleared her throat and the man beside her jumped as if she had hit him. He smiled at her, an apologetic smile for letting himself get too close. She noticed the way his eyes crinkled just a little bit, the faint crows feet around them deepening as his mouth opened to show a bottom row of crooked teeth. He was handsome she realized, seemingly a sweet guy from his behavior. She mentally slapped herself as she realized that however sweet he seemed, he was still using her, paying her for sex. A bubble of irrational hate rose in her chest, but she calmed it when her brain actually decided to emerge, and reminded her that if it wasn't for guys like the one next to her right now, she would surely have starved to death a long time ago. On this realization, she smiled tentatively back at him, sat up to retrieve her scraps of clothing, and reminded him of his bill.

She wouldn't see him again. It was an unspoken rule of hers that she would never have the same customer more than once. Sex was a risky business when emotions became involved, and although she knew that the majority of her customers were in it purely just for the physical aspect of things, she also knew, that a select few looked to prostitutes as a way to dispel loneliness - seeking some kind of emotional attachment, as well as receiving physical release. Becoming emotionally involved in any job was playing with fire, but due to the criteria of her job it would be suicide. So she ensured she haunted different areas, a different bar full of potential customers each work night. Obviously, she didn't have the world at her feet, so she had to re-visit the same bars eventually, but she made sure to keep a respectable distance in among visits. Also, what she was doing was illegal, and as emotionally damaged as she was, she liked her freedom. She doubted she was the type to survive in prison anyway, so she took this into consideration during her nights on the prowl.

As she arrived back at her flat, her new addition to her rent bill sitting snugly inbetween the skin of he breast and the lacy fabric of her bra, she thought back to how uncomfortable her client had made her feel today. _She liked her freedom_, she reminded herself - no-one to control her, tell her what to do, lead her into unfamiliar territory and abandon her when she found she needed company the most. No-one to consider when making crucial decisions, only herself to rely on. She _liked_ her freedom.  
Yet when she thought back to how he'd stared in her eyes, how vulnerable she'd felt, she acknknowledged now that she had also felt something else inside her too. If only for a fraction of a second, she felt _hope._ Hope that someone actually saw her for her, a person, and didn't dismiss her because of what she did for a living.

As soon as the thought entered her head, she quickly dismissed it. Vulnerability was not that foreign of an emotion - occasionally it did consume her, and she was now equipped to deal with it. But hope? Hope was dangerous. Hope slowly niggles its way into your head, your body, your heart. Until it consumes you, makes you think you deserve things that would never occur to you if you were thinking logically.

Hope made her think she could turn her life around. That she was going through a bad patch, a dark chapter in a novel that would eventually promise her a happily ever after. Hope made her believe she could pick herself back up again, just one more time. She caught aglimpse of how she wanted her future to turn out - successful career, lover-turned-husband, a house-turned-home, and children she could provide for.

She passed her mirror and her fantasy future disappeared as quick as it came. Staring back at her, was a lowlife. _A whore._ In the mirror, she saw her dark brown eyes trace the path of the glistening drop of water as it leaked out the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek.

Hope was _cruel._

Bella thought back once more to the man with his apologetic smile, and searching gaze. She smiled.

_She was never going to see him again._


End file.
